


Sea Serpents

by whisperastorytome



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Betty Cooper, Betty Cooper & Toni Topaz Friendship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pirates, Slavery, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-27 14:37:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16704355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperastorytome/pseuds/whisperastorytome
Summary: Elizabeth Cooper, Betty, is a enigma. She is as soft as a petal of a newly blossomed rose yet has the strength and integrity of an old oak.Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, Jughead, is as lost as he is stubborn. The open water and never ending journey has left him feeling isolated.Through an old friendship and unforgotten dept, Jughead is left with an important task. Keep the privileged, perfect and painfully beautiful Betty Cooper safe. But perhaps it’s him who needs to be protected.





	1. Preview

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a sample of what I have written thus far. I would appreciate some feedback and constructive criticism to help make this story better. Thank you, enjoy x

Elizabeth Cooper, Betty, was a young woman trapped in the wrong decade. She was far too kind and far too modern in her thinking for the small town of Riverdale. As Betty sat at the edge of her family's property, gazing at the tumbling and violent currents of Sweetwater river, she felt the true restraint on her life. Not just from her corset that had been tied too tightly from a young slave girl she fondly called Josie, but from the expectations laid down by her father and society. She was to be perfect, in every sense of the word. 

A long blonde curl that had fallen from her impeccable braid tickled her cheek in the cool evening breeze. She always felt at peace by water, the rough swells and surges had a mind of their own, they set their own pace and couldn’t be controlled. Sweetwater river was unpredictable, a force to be reckoned with as her mother put it. Oh how she wished for such freedom, no poking, no prodding, no snide comments about her posture. She inhaled deeply through her nose, dreading discussions about her future and wishing to to remain in the present for as long as possible. Unfortunately she was ripped from the moment all too quickly. 

“Miss Betty?” Chuck a young handsome slave cautiously called from behind her. He kept his eyes trained to the ground, the last time he looked Betty in the eye ended with twenty lashes from Master Cooper. Betty turned her head, she took in his strong jawline and the faint shadow of dark hair across his cheeks. He was lighter in complexion compared with other slaves that worked the property. Perhaps his mother had caught the eye of a previous master. Betty swallowed thickly at the thought.

“Mrs Cooper was asking for you, something about supper and Master Coopers return from Greendale.” He was perhaps only a few years older than her, yet the wear of his body from a life of labor had taken its toll. His back was slightly hunched, and his hands look painfully blistered and calloused. It won’t be long before her father decides to ‘eliminate’ the faulty produce, either selling Chuck or god knows what. 

“Thank you Chuck, I will head back now.” Betty tried to speak with poise, but instead it came out as almost a dejected sigh. She stood up and brushed the grass and invisible creases from her skirt, picking up her novel and casting one last longing glance to the river. She sometimes wished it would swallow her whole.


	2. Betrothed.

Betty, was a young woman trapped in the wrong decade. She was far too kind and far too modern in her thinking for the small town of Riverdale. As Betty sat at the edge of her family's property, gazing at the tumbling and violent currents of Sweetwater river, she felt the true restraint on her life. Not just from her corset that had been tied too tightly from a young slave girl she fondly called Josie, but from the expectations laid down by her father and society. She was to be perfect, in every sense of the word. 

A long blonde curl that had fallen from her impeccable braid tickled her cheek in the cool evening breeze. She always felt at peace by water, the rough swells and surges had a mind of their own, they set their own pace and couldn’t be controlled. Sweetwater river was unpredictable, a force to be reckoned with as her mother put it. Oh how she wished for such freedom, no poking, no prodding, no snide comments about her posture. She inhaled deeply through her nose, dreading discussions about her future and wishing to to remain in the present for as long as possible. Unfortunately she was ripped from the moment all too quickly. 

“Miss Betty?” Chuck, a young handsome slave cautiously called from behind her. He kept his eyes trained to the ground, the last time he looked Betty in the eye ended with twenty lashes from Master Cooper. Betty turned her head, she took in his strong jawline and the faint shadow of dark hair across his cheeks. He was lighter in complexion compared with other slaves that worked the property. Perhaps his mother had caught the eye of a previous master. Betty swallowed thickly at the thought.

“Mrs Cooper was asking for you, something about supper and Master Coopers return from Greendale.” He was perhaps only a few years older than her, yet the wear of his body from a life of labour had taken its toll. His back was slightly hunched, and his hands looked painfully blistered and calloused. It won’t be long before her father decides to ‘eliminate’ the faulty products, either selling Chuck or god knows what. 

“Thank you Chuck, I will head back now.” Betty tried to speak with poise, but instead it came out as almost a dejected sigh. She stood up and brushed the grass and invisible creases from her skirt, picking up her novel and casting one last longing glance at the river. She sometimes wished it would swallow her whole.

The trek back from the river didn’t take nearly as long as Betty wished. She had tried to prolong her journey by stopping to inspect the occasional wildflower. She knew though that excessive procrastination would just result in a sharp slap across the face from her father and a disapproving wince from her mother. She stared up at the clean white paneling of house that felt more like a prison rather than a home. Perhaps in another life she could be free.

Betty, has lived a privileged life, that much she knows. A wealthy lifestyle and family is all she has ever experienced. In the isolation of a small town, she is sheltered from all the adversity and trial that the common folk face. Sheltered in behind walls of a house much too large and extravagant for a family of four. Well, now merely three. Betty’s older sister Polly had been married off to a wealthy man named Edgar Evernever. Polly had been eighteen for less than six weeks before her father had made the decision. Four years have come and passed with only the occasional letter from the Evernevers.

Hal Cooper, Betty’s father, is not a very nice man. She may have lived a sheltered life but Betty was not completely naive. The Cooper fortune was built upon the trade and development of human slaves. Betty had witnessed many shells of humans beat and tortured for her father's personal gain. No, Hal Cooper was not a nice man, he was a vile psychopath. To make matters worse, he refused to allow Betty or her mother visit Polly. It was just last summer that they received a generic letter from the Evernever’s announcing the birth of twins. The look on her mother's face would have made Betty chuckle under different circumstances. While her mother, Alice, almost died from shock Hal didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. When they begged to meet the newborns he simply said that is was inappropriate to invite themselves into another man’s home, and that Edgar valued his privacy. For the past four years Hal has continued living his life as if he never had another daughter, as if Polly never existed.

Betty turned eighteen two weeks ago and now supposes it’s only time before she meets her sister’s fate. Her mother has been especially quiet these past couple weeks while her father was in Greendale for business. Avoiding conversation, hiding away in her study, claiming to be writing to distant relatives in England. Betty knew better though, her mother would bury her head in the sand and ignore the inevitable. Betty had never felt more alone and trapped in her entire life. 

It was now sitting at the dining room table awaiting her father's good news that Betty began to feel the wave of defeat take over her body. The overly large table was covered in delicious looking dishes made by the slave her father calls ‘kitchen bitch’ though Betty knew as Sierra.

“Before we begin our meal, I would like to make a very exciting announcement,” said Hal in his sickly sweet voice. Betty felt her nails dig into her palm and she looked at her mother longingly, craving some sort of moral support in the form of recognition. But the always obedient Alice kept her eyes down on the table, taking a long sip from her glass of wine. 

“I have found a willing man to marry our lovely Elizabeth,” he finished with a grin. Betty sucked in a deep breath and practically felt the life drain out of her. She could feel the all too familiar burn at the back of her eyes, but refused to let the welling tears fall. 

“May we know who?” asked Alice, after a long stretch of silence.

“John Arthur McGreen, a loyal customer who owns the cotton plantation in Greendale.” Hal said with a mouthful of green beans.

“Plantation owner? I thought his father John senior was still running the show?” Alice spoke with a slight slur, she was already on her third glass of wine.

“I am talking about John Senior, he’s been widowed for many years now and is in need of some company and perhaps an extra heir.” Betty felt bile rising in her throat, not only was her father marrying her off, her betrothed was a sixty year old man with several children. Alice finally risked a glance at Betty, her eyes and face sending mixed signals.

“Well isn’t that great news my dear.”

Little did Betty know, but Alice had been preparing for this announcement for quite some time. She knew the motive behind Hal’s trip to Greendale was to search for the most greedy bachelor. She could not allow for her sweet Betty to follow down the same footsteps as herself and Polly. Alice had been niave when Hal said he found Polly a husband. She had thought that somehow it would be different, that everyone would be happy. “Silly little Ali,” Hal’s voice would taunt inside her head. The awful truth was Hal saw his wife and daughters as he did his slaves, property. Raise and mature them, then sell them off to the highest bidder to be someone else’s property. Simple. This time it had to be different, Betty will not be an old man’s walking womb.

Alice risked a glance at her youngest daughter, her loose blonde curls and downcast stare were doing little to disguise her obvious anguish. Her face had become alarmingly pale and her breath was coming out in short huffs. She was too young, too innocent, too good. Hal continued to stuff his greedy face with food, completely unaware of the disdain he caused. Alice tried to remember a time when Hal had been a decent husband, perhaps it was when she was pregnant with Polly. He had been gentle, and careful with her. Excited to be bringing a possible heir to the Cooper name. He had been handsome then, broad shouldered and a head full of thick blonde hair. That all changed after the birth, a daughter, such an embarrassment. Alice looked over to him now, thin hair, pot belly, and food stuck to the stubble on his chin. He disgusted her. She hated him. She despised him. An image flashed in her head of Betty in a few years time sitting across a table from an elderly pig of a husband. She had to get her out, far away from the evil that was sat across from them. Despite the eagerness she now felt, she had to approach the topic carefully. She could not to raise suspicion.

“Are still planning on overseeing the delivery on Thursday?” Alice spoke calmly, cutting a piece of beef with disinterest. Hal had been planning this important trip for several months now. A pickup of slaves fresh off the boat at a small port that was four hours away. 

“Of course, the last time I didn’t those bastards gave me three duds. I won’t be made a fool this time.” Hal scowled at the memory of three black babes. Absolutely useless. 

“Perhaps Betty and I could join you. I know the most magnificent seamstress nearby who can make Betty the most wonderful wedding gown.” Alice spoke with artificial excitement, it tasted bitter on her tongue. Betty finally looked up from her lap, casting her mother a look that could only be described as betrayal. 

“I don’t see why not, perhaps we can stay overnight at the Inn.” Hal as always was aloof, Alice smiled.

“Marvelous.”  
~  
Betty lay awake that night. Looking at the ceiling rose, she wouldn’t be getting much sleep. Her head plagued by thoughts of her incoming doom. She technically was an adult, yet she still felt so young. She has not lived, and now perhaps she never will. Her thoughts drift off to the few happy memories she had. Dancing and getting lost in the cotton fields with her sister, or having her gently brushed and braided by Gee the elderly slave that was eventually ‘sent off’. They were bittersweet, times where Betty was even more wide-eyed and innocent. It was a time that she still believed that her father was a good man, it was so long ago now. Her eyes fell to the floral wallpaper, it hasn’t changed since she was a child. Perhaps she hadn’t changed, not really at least. Sure her body has aged and developed womanly curves, but she is still the green-eyed little girl weaving through overgrown cotton shrubs. Small and so incredibly vulnerable. 

 

~

 

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III is too young to be a captain, too young to hold such authority and power. Yet here he is only 20 years of age running the White Wyrm, a remarkable brig. He often felt it was all in over his head but he his father believed in him, believed in him enough to hand over the position. His father, the infamous FP Jones, held respect from pirates across the land and sea. Yet when his health took a turn, in the form of alcoholism, it only made sense for his son to take command of the Serpents. While the younger generation of Serpents took the new leadership in stride, it still came with its controversy. How could someone so young take the responsibility? How could someone nicknamed ‘Jughead’ of all things be treated with respect? Jughead had to work hard to be taken seriously, still the older Serpents held prejudice. 

Jughead took a deep breath of the salty sea air, wrinkling his nose at the lingering smell of rotten fish. The gunners, Sweetpea and Fangs, thought it was a good idea to tip a bucket of rancid seafood over the new powder money, Dilton. While it had been humorous at the time, of course not to Dilton who hurled over himself, the smell had yet to dissipate. Jughead glanced at the offenders, they would need to scrub the deck for a seventh time. They were currently flirting with a several women from the local pub of the town they were docked at. Looking over to the harbour, Jughead sighed, his father was tending to personal business which was more than suspicious. So of course, with time to waste and land to see, the crew had invited the wide-eyed and curious women onto the ship. A few of them sent longing looks toward the young captain, he supposes a few of them are rather pretty, but nothing special. Jughead had never housed the same amount of lust men his age had. He muses he’s just a busy man, but truthfully he simply has too much on his mind.

Jughead glances at the quiet town that lay before him, it’s in these moments he wonders what his life would be in different circumstances. He has always enjoyed telling stories, but lacks the finest of education to put them down into words. Perhaps in this other life he would have attended a prestige school, or had an accomplished author for a tutor. Maybe he would write for the newspaper, exposing the privileged and proper who take from the most vulnerable. Perhaps he would live in a small yet quaint house, and enjoy taking walks through the endlessness of land surrounding him. He would of course live by the sea, he could never be too far from it. The sea has its way of always calling him back when out of sight, his body craves the salty air and sandy bays. It has always been his only constant.

While Jughead craved excited of land, most young men and the occasional vivacious woman envied the life of a pirate. No laws or regulations, reckless behaviour, endless supplies of rum, beautiful exotic women. It was exciting, but perhaps a little too exciting. He has not known any other life, being born and raised on the Wyrm. Jughead has spent his entire life being groomed to be the future Serpent ‘King’. He supposes the Serpents and the Wyrm were his betrothed, he never has never had a choice in his destiny. So for now Jughead has to be content with his imagination, his problems are laughable in comparison with other peoples troubles. Yet he still wonders, what if it were different? What if fate is a load of shit? What if he could make his own destiny? 

What if?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this took so long, life has been a little unforgiving. Please let me know what you think, I'm not really happy with how this chapter turned out. I made a tumblr for this where I'll be posting updates, gifs, and sneak speaks. So give that a follow if you are interested in my moodboard.  
>  https://whisperastorytome.tumblr.com/


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